Nariah Andino moved toward her father as he was being loaded into the back of an ambulance after being shot outside his home. As she approached, she heard him struggle to say, “Go away.”
On December 23, 2019, around 11:30 p.m., 33-year-old Rene J. Andino was shot multiple times on Richelieu Street, Springfield, Massachusetts. He had been walking from his car to his girlfriend’s house, just under 100 meters away on Oswego Street, where his daughters, 12-year-old Nariah and 5-year-old Madison, were asleep at the time.
While Massachusetts has lower rates of gun crime compared to other states, Springfield has a notably high rate of firearm-related homicides compared to other cities in Western Massachusetts. According to the Pew Research Center, firearms were involved in 14,542 of the 19,510 murders in the U.S. in 2017, with 262 of those in Massachusetts. Springfield recorded 18 firearm-related deaths in 2019—a three-year high, following 14 in 2017 and 12 in 2016. Each homicide leaves behind families grappling with the loss of a loved one.
That night, Madison, recovering from a fever, was asleep when Nariah was jolted awake by three loud “pops,” which she initially mistook for roadwork outside. As she moved toward the apartment door, her father’s girlfriend burst in, shouting, “Your dad got shot! Your dad got shot!” Peering out the window, Nariah saw a dark figure lying in the street.
The horrifying reality set in: her father had been shot. Though she desperately wanted to help, she hesitated, fearing the shooters might still be nearby.
“I just ran back upstairs and put all my clothes on,” Nariah recalled. “I called my mom on my stepsister’s phone and told her, ‘Daddy got shot, come pick me up.’ I couldn’t do anything else to help him.”
Elizabeth Sanchez, Nariah’s mother, arrived shortly after the police. Meanwhile, Wanda Pierce, Rene’s mother, was shopping at Walmart for Christmas supplies. She had been mourning the recent loss of her 18-year partner, Brian Parker Sr., who had passed just weeks earlier on November 8.
“I told [Rene] this was a good time to go shopping because it’s quiet, not too many people,” Pierce said. “While I was in Walmart, they killed my son.”
Pierce’s phone had poor reception in the store, and when it finally connected, she was inundated with messages about the tragedy.
Nariah vividly remembers running up to her father’s body as paramedics worked on him. “My mom tried to hold me back, but I wouldn’t let her. I ran up to the body and asked the paramedics, ‘Is he going to be okay?’ They just said, ‘I don’t know.’”
At that moment, Nariah realized her father might not survive. Yet, she refused to cry, summoning strength in honor of the man who had always been strong for her. “He didn’t want me to see him like that,” she said. Still, a wave of “fear, anger, and hatred” overwhelmed her.
Rene and Nariah had been incredibly close, spending time fishing and exploring the woods. He had even shown her a treehouse he built at her age, a place she now visits to find solace.
“He wouldn’t want me to still be sad over what happened,” Nariah said. “Now is my time to become a better person, to become what he always wanted me to be.”
At William R. Peck Middle School, Nariah’s guidance counselor, Alaina Fox, noted the unique challenge Nariah faces as someone who has witnessed gun violence. “We have other students who’ve experienced trauma, like the loss of a parent, but Nariah’s experience stands out,” said Fox.
After her father’s death, Nariah began therapy at the River Valley Counseling Center, which partners with local schools to provide mental health services. Despite this, Nariah found greater solace in confiding in a friend who had also lost a parent under similar circumstances. “We just started sharing our emotions, and she really helped me through it,” Nariah said.
Nariah has struggled with anger issues, sometimes leading to conflicts at school. Her principal, Sarita Graveline, explained, “[Children] who’ve experienced trauma often struggle to manage their emotional responses. Their triggers are severe, leading to impulsive or explosive behavior.”
Recently, Nariah was suspended for fighting a student who spoke disrespectfully about her father. “Some people say things like, ‘Your dad passed away,’ and I’m like, how could you even say that?” she said. “Even if they don’t know, it still hurts.”
Holidays, particularly Father’s Day and Christmas, are especially painful. “I used to love Christmas, but now it’s just not the same,” Nariah said. “This isn’t the Christmas I remember.”
Pierce, who now helps care for Nariah and Madison, admits the loss of her son weighs heavily on her. “Sometimes, all I want to do is give up,” she said through tears. “But I can’t—he’s not here, and who’s going to help take care of his girls?”
The family remains in search of answers, with no arrests made and no clear motive for Rene’s killing. Pierce calls the police every week for updates, desperate for closure.
“I thought I’d never move on from this, and maybe I never will,” Nariah said. “But time will make me feel better. I know I won’t hurt forever.”